


Whiskey and comfort

by Coriaria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, M/M, One Shot, maybe..., might have happened in canon, unsuccessful drunk sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14979845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriaria/pseuds/Coriaria
Summary: In June 1997, two lonely men meet in Grimmaud Place. They share a few drinks and find a little comfort in each other.





	Whiskey and comfort

Snape placed the smoking goblet down on the table none too gently, despite its toxic contents.

“Werewolf, you look like something a cat threw up.”

He did too. His face was covered in messy stubble, hair that needed a wash flopped in his eyes and his tatty brown cardigan was covered with grey hairs which Snape suspected belonged to his alter ego. There were black hairs too, perhaps from the mutt, although he had been gone a year. Altogether, the impression was not unlike a large version of one of the hairballs Mrs Norris was apt to leave in the corridors.

“Why, thank you for noticing, Severus,” Lupin said. “You, on the other hand, look more like something a thestral shat out.”

Lupin smiled a smile which showed his teeth but didn’t reach his eyes and held Snape’s gaze. The tone was polite, but Snape wasn’t entirely sure that Lupin wasn’t about to leap across the table and grab his throat. The werewolf had spent the better part of the year in the company of Greyback’s pack and it was more than his clothes that were starting to fall apart.

“You’d better drink it while it’s still hot,” Snape said, gesturing towards the goblet.

Lupin nodded, raised the goblet briefly towards Snape as if it were a toast, then swallowed the contents in one gulp. He immediately began coughing and choking, before rushing to the kitchen sink and scooping water into his mouth.

“Merlin, it’s been so long I’d forgotten just how vile it is.”

“I admit, I was surprised that Albus asked me to make it for you. Doesn’t Greyback frown upon such civilised ideas?”

Lupin nodded.

“I’m not going back, not for a bit anyway. Dumbledore called me back. Said things were about to get rough and it wasn’t a good time to be isolated.”

Suddenly it was as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs. For a moment, the colour and light seemed to fade from the room and all he could hear was Albus, his face grim, saying, “it’s soon, my boy, it’s very soon”. Very briefly, he lost control of his emotions and allowed an expression to flash across his face. 

“Severus?”

Lupin was giving him a worried look and Snape cursed under his breath. The werewolf must have caught his expression.

“Here, you look like you could do with a drink.”

On the table in front of Lupin there was a bottle and two glasses that hadn’t been there before. Lupin poured a generous measure into each and pushed one across the table. Snape sat and stared at the glass for some time before he took it. He drained it before he could even taste the contents.

“Another one, Severus?”

Snape pushed the glass back over and Lupin poured in another measure. This time he drank it more slowly. Lupin was also drinking, not as quickly as Snape had downed his first glass but still gulping it down as if it was butterbeer.

“Good stuff, this,” Snape said. “Is it from the Black’s cellar? I would have thought there wasn’t much left after the mutt’s efforts.”

“Fuck you, Severus,” Lupin replied. He swallowed the rest of his whiskey and pour himself another glass. “Why are you always such an arsehole?”

This time Snape didn’t allow an expression to cross his face, although he was shocked. Lupin never swore. Whether it was his time with Greyback, the alcohol or just his general mood, Snape wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, Snape was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question. He finished his second glass and stood.

“Another glass?”

Lupin lifted the bottle and Snape sat down again, pushing his glass back across for a refill. They sat and drank in silence, Lupin giving Snape a slightly wounded look from across the table, continuing to refill their glasses without comment.

“I am an arsehole, you know,” Snape said, finally, when he couldn’t stand the werewolf’s moping any more. “You’re a fool if you expect any better.”

For some time, there was no response from Lupin. He was looking hard at his glass, taking occasional gulps. When it was empty, he refilled it, splashing a bit onto the table.

“Lily didn’t think so.”

Snape froze, glass half way to his lips. He took a few slow breaths and wondered when the room had got so cold.

“Doesn’t his place have any heating?”

He stood and walked, wobbling slightly, over to the fireplace. He pointed the wand at it and the pile of ash began to smoulder. The fireplace emitted a few puffs of smoke into the room, but no heat.

“You trying to change the subject?”

The werewolf had crept up behind him and now had a hand on his shoulder.

“Lily didn’t speak to me for the last six years of her life. She knew perfectly well what kind of man I was. Am.”

“A good one, Severus. She always thought you were a good man.”

Snape turned, curling his lip and almost snarling at the werewolf.

“She did not, Lupin. She loathed me. She told me she never wanted to speak to me again and then she married my enemy, a man who tormented me. Her opinion of me was abundantly clear.”

“Severus, it wasn’t like that. You know she was afraid of your friends, especially after what Mulciber did to Mary MacDonald. You know they had their sights on her. But she never thought you were bad.”

Snape shook his head.

“No, she hated me.”

“Severus, she wouldn’t let James and Sirius say anything against you. She always said it wasn’t surprising that you’d gone the way you had, that you had your reasons. She said you’d lost your way, but she was sure you would come back to the light. She said that, you know. _He’s lost his way_ , she said. _He’ll come back, you know. And when he does, you have to treat him better this time._ That’s what she said. She was such a kind witch. So kind. She was…”

The werewolf almost looked like he was going to cry.

“I miss her, you know. I miss her more than ever now. I wish she was here. She was the best friend I could have had.”

“What about the mutt?”

“Don’t… he was… it was… complicated. Lily… she understood certain things…”

The werewolf was starting to sound incoherent and his words were slightly slurred.

“I know, Lupin, Lily was a good listener.”

Lupin nodded his head rather vigorously, then groaned. His head dropped forward until it was resting on Snape’s shoulder.

“Severus, I think I’m a bit drunk.”

Snape pushed Lupin back then grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the table.

“Sit down before you fall down, Lupin.”

“You’re very kind, Severus. You’re a good man. Lily knew it, she did. Wish sh’was here now. D’you miss her, Severus?”

Lupin’s words were definitely slurring. Despite this, he still had enough coordination to lift the bottle to his lips, no longer bothering with the glass.

“Give me that, Lupin,” Snape said, snatching the bottle away.

“S’okay, Severus, s’plenty left.”

Since Severus was holding the bottle, he thought he might as well drink some more. The thought struck him that he’d drunk at least as much as the werewolf. Now he thought about it, the ground did seem to be moving. 

“I need to go, Lupin.”

Suddenly there was a large hand gripping him by the front of his robe.

“No you don’t, Severus. Can’t apparate. Too drunk. Sl… sl… splinch yourself. Spare rooms upstairs.”

The werewolf was on his feet, dragging Snape with him as he headed out of the kitchen. He stumbled and fell onto the stairs, then continued up, half crawling. The large, calloused hand that had been gripping Snape by his sleeve had slipped down and was now wrapped around Snape’s wrist.

At the top of the stairs, Lupin pushed open a door.

“Get out of here, you foul, half-breed cur,” shrieked a woman’s voice. A man joined in – Snape couldn’t make out most of the words, but he thought he heard “pervert” and “filthy”.

“Fuck,” Lupin muttered under his breath, backing out of the room and pushing Snape back into the corridor.“Forgot ‘bout th’ bloody portrait. Sirius’s great-great-great-whatevers.”

Together, the two men weaved down the hallyway. Lupin opened a second door. For a moment he froze, then he turned and pushed Snape out of the room. Snape caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a full moon.

“Boggart,” Lupin said, his face white.

Lupin was now leaning heavily on Snape, their faces close.

“Bugger this,” Lupin said. “No more spare rooms on this floor. Have to share.”

Snape followed as Lupin opened another door and dragged him in. It didn’t seem such a bad idea, sharing with Lupin. He wasn’t so bad really. Quite nice looking in a faded, scruffy sort of way. Arse was quite nice too, Snape noted, walking behind him. One part of him was dimly aware that to be thinking these thoughts, he must really be quite drunk. The rest of him didn’t care.

He looked up at the walls of the room, which seemed to revolve slowly. One wall was decorated with faded posters, motorcycles, muggle bands, Quidditch.

“Hey, was this the mutt’s room?”

“It was _our_ room, Severus.”

“So… you and the mutt then, you were…”

“Of course we were, Severus. We were always… well…”

Lupin let out a deep sigh.

“I miss him so much, Severus. Get so lonely. Think about him… all those years… so sad… I miss him… and I’m just so lonely…”

Lupin’s eyes were swimming with tears and he moved closer. Suddenly both arms were wrapped around Snape, who felt warm breath and whiskers tickling his ear.

“D’you get lonely, Severus. You must get lonely, bet you do. All alone in that dungeon, all buttoned up in those robes. Bet you get lonely.”

Lupin stumbled and Snape found himself lying on the bed under the werewolf. Then Lupin was kissing him. The werewolf was a little bony and his hands were clumsy as they pulled at Snape’s robes, but he was warm and his kisses were unexpectedly gentle. It didn’t cross Snape’s mind to resist – all he did was moan and open his mouth.

Snape felt Lupin’s lips and tongue against his, Lupin’s hands moving around his body, slipping inside his robes, Lupin’s hips moving against his. It felt somewhat pleasant and he was aware that they were both a little hard. He reached his hands around Lupin’s back, then found the waistband of his trousers and slipped one hand inside.

“Like your arse, Lupin,” he said, digging his fingers in and feeling the firm muscles. The werewolf gave him a nip on the collarbone.

With his other hand, Snape reached between them and tried to undo Lupin’s trousers. However his fingers refused to cooperate and he settled for rubbing from the outside.

Lupin pushed him off and sat up. He undid his shirt and dropped it to the ground, kicked off his shoes and undid his trousers. He wriggled out his pants and climbed further up the bed, gesturing to Snape to follow him. Snape suddenly felt uncomfortable, seeing the werewolf’s naked body. He was a bit thin and the skin was covered in scars, but the muscles were strong and ropy, his arms and chest tanned. He might have covered himself with scruffy cardigans and tatty tweed, but he had the body of a man used to hard work. Snape, on the other hand, was pasty white, with the soft flesh of a man who spent his days standing in a classroom, lab or library.

“Here, Severus,” Lupin said and reached out his hand. “Don’t be shy. I won’t bite.”

Lupin giggled at his own joke and Snape found himself joining in as he crawled up the bed towards Lupin. He began trying to undo his buttons, but his fingers refused to cooperate. Lupin reached out to help him. More buttons were pulled off than undone, but Snape was definitely past caring. He wanted to get back to feeling Lupin’s arse.

Soon Snape found himself pleasantly tangled in Lupin’s long limbs once again. He realised, though, that he didn’t really want to do anything – it seemed like too much effort, and besides, he had started to realise that he wasn’t getting particularly hard. He really was far too drunk.

“S’not working,” Lupin said. “Might be a bit too drunk.”

It appeared that the werewolf was coming to the same conclusion.

“M’sorry, Severus. Can’t get it up. Think I drank a bit mush. Did you drink a bit mush, Severus?”

Snape nodded.

“Bit much too,” he said.

In his head, the words were perfectly clear, but Snape suspected that he was slurring as much as Lupin.

“S’okay. Nice like this. Just cuddling. Nice to cuddle. Miss it. Miss just having someone to cuddle with. D’you miss it, Severus?”

Snape considered saying that he could hardly miss what he’d never had, but it didn’t seem like the time. Lupin’s body was warm and his arms were strong, and Snape felt safer than he could remember feeling. If he could just stay like this, just pretend the war didn’t exist, pretend that he wasn’t a Death Eater, in action if not in intent, pretend that in a few short weeks he would…

“You smell nice, Severus. Skin’s soft. Didn’t know you’ve have soft skin.”

Snape realised that Lupin was humming softly and stroking the side of his neck, as if he was patting a dog. Of course, that’s why he’d brought Snape into his bed in the first place – he missed his mutt. It wasn’t as if Lupin, or anyone, really cared about Snape. He was just a convenient warm body when the werewolf was lonely.

“Glad you came, Severus. You’re so good to me, making my Wolfsbane. I ‘preciate it. So mush. You work so hard, always look tense. Need to relax. Need someone to look after you. Wish I could do something for you, make you happy. You should be happy.”

Snape tried to struggle out of Lupin’s arms. 

“I’ve done terrible things,” Snape said, knowing that the last thing he needed was a clingy, lonely werewolf attaching himself to him. Especially not now.

“What?” Lupin asked, his hand moving from Snape’s neck to his head.

“I’m a terrible person. I’ve done terrible things. You think this is just for show?”

Snape lifted his left arm so the Mark was close to Lupin’s face.

“I’m a Death Eater, Lupin. A real Death Eater. Can’t just join in the meetings then head off home to Hogwarts. See you later chaps, thanks for telling me all your plans, not in the mood for torturing and maiming muggles tonight, see you next time. Not going to learn anything that way, am I? Have to get close. Not much use if I don’t.”

Lupin was staring back, looking shocked. Good. He deserved to be. They all deserved to be. He was out their, soul dying piece by piece with every foul deed while they kept their hands clean. And still they despised him. He was never one of them. Never good enough. They never liked him no matter what he did.

Snape began to panic as he realised that tears were filling his eyes.

“S’alright, Severus,” Lupin said. “I know. I’ve done terrible things too.”

Lupin inclined his head towards his shoulder, where a faded but still brutal scar marred the skin. His original scar, the bite that Greyback had given him as a child.

“Not for show, either, Severus. Not nice in the werewolf packs. Greyback’s a nasty brute. Don’t get to run with the pack if they think you’re tame. I’ve done horrible things too. For the greater good, Albus says… always the greater good. Don’t know if that means I’m good or bad. If you do bad things for good reasons, what does that make you? What does that make us?”

Severus let out a long sigh and shook his head. That was the question, indeed.

“I don’t know, Lupin. I don’t know.”

He sank back down, leaning back against Lupin’s chest, feeling Lupin’s arms wrap back around him. He closed his eyes. He would worry about the state of his soul tomorrow. Tonight he would take the offered comfort. Tonight he would not be alone.


End file.
